Back to you
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: Mary's been back in the castle for weeks, but her fear of the prophecy keeps making her push Francis away. He's still angry over her escaping with Bash, and they haven't truly spoken since then. Now it's their wedding day, but they are more broken than ever. Is it too late to fix things?
1. Chapter 1

The entire ceremony, Mary felt like she was on the outside looking in. She felt disconnected from her body, watching herself stand at the altar, promising herself to Francis in front of God, but feeling nothing in her heart. All she felt was dread.

Their wedding, instead of being filled with happiness like she'd dreamed of as a child, or love as she'd thought it would be this past months, had felt more like a death sentence for her, for if he died surely she would too. She did not want to wed Francis. She loved him more than life, but she worked the entire time to keep tears at bay. She did not want this at all.

Her heart ached at the thought that she would bring and end to his life. She had tried to explain about Nostradamus and the prophecy and his mother, but he'd ignored her plight; dismissing everything as superstition. No matter how much she fought, she was not allowed to break the treaty between her country and France. Which left her dismayed that the wedding would still happen, and Francis heartbroken that she would try so hard to get out of their plans, that before had caused them such joy. That day filled with love and sunlight was long gone.

She knew he was still angry at her for running away, and she hadn't asked for forgiveness. She did not want it. Mary couldn't regret what she'd done for she'd done it out of love. And she also thought that if Francis hated her, he would call their wedding off. Once again, she just made things worse in trying to protect him.

He recited his vows like he did the poems his tutors assigned them as children, and speaking hers out loud felt like something sharp inside her chest broke. Mary looked down as they walked out of the church, for she could not bear to meet his eyes. _Until death do us apart._

_-.-_

They rode to the castle after the ceremony in opposite sides of the carriage, sneaking looks at each other. They'd barely talked in the past weeks. Their wedding vows were the most they'd said to each other, after her first day back and their fight. She couldn't help a tear leaking out as she thought of how wrong this all felt, how she should be filled with newlywed bliss and not this heavy, foreboding feeling in the pit of her stomach. She feared every step she took as his wife because it might be the one that set his death into motion.

Francis saw her tears before she could wipe them away, and she was too heartbroken to feel pride or embarrassment. All she saw in his eyes was betrayal and hurt.

"Marrying me that bad, huh?" he asked with a wry smile, his shoulders thrown back as he watched the fields blurring past them outside the window. He looked like he did the first days after she arrived, detached, trying to protect himself almost as much as she was trying to protect him.

They arrived at the castle and he stepped out of the carriage right away, seemingly not able to get out of the enclosed space fast enough. He offered Mary his arm so she could climb down as well. She tried to school her features into a smile as she did, feigning happiness for everyone who was there to receive them. They walked inside for the feast, both their hearts heavy. Queen and King, ruling only themselves. He let go of her hands as soon as they were inside, but before Mary could walk to her ladies he grabbed her by the elbow and whispered in her ear,

"Don't worry…it'll be over soon."

She looked up at him, surprised that he would try to lend her some comfort. He knew she was hurting over the prophecy, but it went beyond that. It was killing her, having to pretend to be happy when every step felt like a nail in his coffin. Mary knew he was talking about all the people congratulating them and the noise and the festivities, but that wasn't what was bothering her, and she couldn't help but continue the horrible game she'd been playing for weeks now. So she told him the truth, in the worst way she knew how.

"No it won't. Now I'm married to you." She meant to make her words sound harsh, still believing that she could prevent the prophecy by keeping him away from her, but her words came out like a miserable whisper. She registered the hurt in his blue eyes and felt a pang in her heart at doing this to him, but he walked away in a huff before she could tell him she did not mean it. She didn't think it would matter anyways, and it was better if he hated her, she reminded herself. If their marriage became what Catherine and the King had, then it wouldn't really be a marriage at all, would it? She knew she was grasping at straws, but her fear of losing Francis completely clouded her judgment.

"Are you ready to change, your majesty?" Greer asked from behind her. She just offered a weak nod, still staring in the direction Francis had left.

"You two are the most miserable husband and wife I've seen." Kenna told her as she walked in her rooms. This was the last time she would use them, as now Francis and her would move to a new shared apartment in the left wing of the castle. "Can't you try and talk to him, Mary? I know you said-"

"You know why I didn't want this, Kenna. You know about the prophecy, I can't be happy at something that will cost Francis his life!"

"But you don't know that, Nostradamus might be wrong-"

"Stop. I am weary of fighting over this." She said, her tone detached. Kenna nodded, as much as they were friends, she was her queen, and she was stepping over the boundaries. Lola started to let down her hair from her elaborate braids, and removed her veil.

"Mary, you know I agree with Kenna. And I know Aylee would as well." She told her.

"Let's not speak of this anymore." She cut them off, as Greer walked in with her best dress for the night's festivities,

"What if Nostradamus is right?" she said "What if no matter what you do Francis will die because of this marriage-" Mary Flinched but Greer still carried on "He will die loathing you for being so dreadful to him. He will spend his last years being utterly miserable, and for what? For the off chance that you might stop this supposed prophecy from happening?

He loves you Mary, and I know you love him, even more than you love yourself, or you wouldn't be suffering so much trying to save him. You deserve happiness, and I'm talking to you as my friend, not as my queen, you deserve to be happy with him." She finished tying Mary's laces and made her turn around, making sure she looked perfect for her wedding feast.

"I wish I could make things right. But I'm too scared of what Nostradamus said will happen…and Francis is still so angry with me for running away with Bash, and after all the hurtful things I've said to try to make him cancel the wedding-" Mary stopped herself and breathed, "I don't know if he will forgive me."

"You have to try." Lola said, "It still is your wedding day, after all."

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**a/n: Lately I'm obsessed with Reign and I'm shipping Frary hard. Leave a review and tell me what you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

Mary walked to the dining hall with her ladies trailing behind her, a new determination blossoming inside her chest. She needed to talk to Francis. _Really_ talk to him, not just exchange pleasantries or hurtful whispered words like they'd been doing since she came back.

It was all she could think of as she sat down for the banquet. She barely payed attention to the food on her plate. People would excuse her lack of appetite as nerves, she was sure.

All throughout dinner she could feel Francis' eyes on her, but she dared not meet his in return. She was too concerned over what she would say to him, and also, she realized with a pang, felt guilty. She had to tell him what happened with Bash, as little as it was. Just one kiss, but it was still betrayal, and she felt in her bones the need to confess it to him.

Like the time she was 11 and broke one of Sister Laura's plates playing ball. She blamed one of the younger girls, and afterwards felt so guilty she could not eat or sleep: and at last knocked on the priest's door late at night so she could confess her sin. He'd laughed when she asked for a penance to make, telling her that her guilt had been punishment enough, if only she told Sister the truth. Mary did not think things would be so easy this time.

A warm hand on hers shook her out of her reverie, and she realized it was Francis, pulling her out of her chair.

"Dinner is over, we have to dance the first set." He whispered to her discreetly. Apparently he'd noticed her head was somewhere else (he did know her better than most, she supposed) and it didn't matter where they stood personally, they had to make a good impression.

"Chin up, love."He said once they reached the ball room. "You see, this will be our first dance as a _happy_ married couple." He said once they reached the ball room. There was a bright smile on his face, which overflowed with sarcasm. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at him and take his hand, as the musicians started the melody.

They danced, their bodies moving in tune to the music and to each other, their eyes never leaving the others. It felt natural, dancing with him, as easy as breathing. And it transported her to happier times, when they were 8 and Catherine forced them to learn this same dance together, saying it would do them good one day. They'd been huffing and puffing back then, wanting to go back to their games. Now, all she could do was drown in his eyes, which seemed to swallow the room around her. All too soon, the music changed and other couples started joining in.

They were free to leave the dance now. But Francis still kept her close for another set, holding her a little too tightly, as if he let her go she might run away from him again. She could barely breathe, but it had nothing to do with his grip. This was the closest they'd been to each other in weeks and her body craved his touch. She now understood the luxury of being in his arms when a mere month ago he'd been lost to her, and because she wanted it that way._ He still is lost to me_, she reminded herself, even if he was right there. His heart didn't belong to her anymore, and it was her own fault. And the queen's. And the devil that she called her adviser. But still, she was the one who'd ran from him, and the hurt and betrayal in his eyes never left her mind.

When the music reached a crescendo and then faded out, Francis walked her to the a corner of the room, next to Kenna, and let her hand go as if it hurt him to do so. She ached to pull him back, but with one last look Francis left her side to talk to diplomats. Many were from her own Scotland, of which he would be now King consort. After a while she lost sight of him, and reverted to worrying her lip between her teeth and thinking of the conversation she felt looming overhead like a dark cloud.

"Here" said Kenna, placing a goblet of wine in her hands. "You will need this for later." She took it, grateful, and steadily drained it, losing herself in her own troubling memories.

She'd spent 9 days on the run with Bash. Days of riding for so long her body hurt; nights of fighting the cold wind if they slept outside, or dozing on uncomfortable inns if they managed to find some. Always putting as much distance as possible between court and herself.

On the second day they found housing, and got separate rooms. In the middle of the night, Mary awoke with a scream as a man appeared above her, reeking of beer. Flashbacks from when Colin had tried the same thing run through her mind like lightning, and she managed to reach for a dagger and slice at his face, warm blood dripping over her gown. Bash ran in and then dragged the man outside, and even after he assured he'd been kicked out, she was too shaken to go back to sleep that night.

From that day on she slept with a knife under her pillow in case one of the drunkards downstairs ventured inside, and with Bash on the floor at her feet.

She'd become guarded after a week, talking to Bash only when necessary, living inside her own head most of the time, heart hurting and mind going back to Francis, always to Francis. She had the memory of him on his knees, calling for her, imprinted on her brain.

It was nine days only, until the guards caught up to them and all but dragged them back to court. The first time she saw Francis felt like a bucket of cold water. His wasn't just angry and hurt, he was livid. Still there were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was disheveled and he had almost a crazed way about him. He'd gone mad searching for her, her ladies said. Yet the first time she talked to him, they fought. They screamed at each other. She tried to explain why she had to get away from him, told him that she couldn't bear to lose him but he dismissed everything. _"You're throwing everything away for superstition!"_

When it was clear he would not consider asking the king to cancel the wedding, or to change the treaty's terms; she just tried to push him away, and in that she said things she wasn't proud of. _"What if I don't want this anymore?_" She'd thrown at him, "_What if I just don't love you?"_ She knew it was politics, that what she felt hardly matter. But all she wanted was for him to stop treating her like his wife. She couldn't ever be his wife, Nostradamus said, not if he was to live. But even though his jaw was tense and his eyes furious and wet, he still told her the wedding would happen in a month's time. Those were Henry's orders, and there was nothing he could do to change it. "_Even if I want to, Mary. Even if nothing would make me happier than being free of you."_

She knew then that she'd broken the love he had for her, perhaps forever. And that knowledge broke _her_. Tears were never bitterer than afterwards, when she sank to the floor or her chambers as soon as she closed the door.

Francis thought she didn't care, that she didn't love him or trust him to love her back. She'd made the man she loved despise her, and even after all had not managed to stop the wedding, stop the very thing that would bring an end to his life. Mary hated it all, the weight pressing down on her and the tears she was tired of swallowing, the prophecy hanging over their heads like an executioner's axe…and Francis, most of all she hated what she'd done to him in her haste. She needed to fix it, if she still could. So with a steely resolve she went off to find him.

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**a/n: I promise I'll have them make up soon. Maybe. Read&review! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Mary found Francis talking to her uncle, of all people. She interrupted them, excusing herself; and accepted his congratulations for the wedding with the best smile she could muster. She shot a look at her uncle then, and with a tactful nod he understood and left them alone. She grabbed Francis' arm before he could turn away.

"Can I speak with you?" She asked, her voice confident, partly because of the wine.

"You'll find you can, since I'm your rightful husband and all." He said, flippant.

She nodded her head towards the doors, and he led the way outside. Night had fallen hours ago, and she could not see the ships of her guests in the distance, only listen to the waves crashing against the stone barriers of the castle.

"I…Francis, I-" She started, but the words stuck to her throat.

"What's wrong Mary? Cat got your tongue?" He asked her, detached; not even looking at her but instead staring out at the black abyss extending in front of them.

"You've been drinking." She said, he'd obviously had his fair share of wine as well. She could smell it on him, and guessed he was a cup away of slurring his speech.

"Well, yes, I've been drinking. You see, my fiance left me, she was forced to come back kicking and screaming and then was miserable the entire wedding! And what I… _still_ can't understand…is why. Could you answer that for me, Mary? _Why_ have you tried so hard to keep me away from you? What did I do to change your mind?"

"I _left_ because I _love_ you," she gasped out, the words escaping her like she'd been waiting all her life to utter them. "I thought…it was the only way to keep you safe."

"From a prophecy." It was clear that he did not believe in it at all, but she could also see the effect her confession had on him. His eyes opened wider at the word love, surely remembering she'd tried to convince him he was nothing to her. It was her own fault he doubted her feelings for him, she reminded herself, and now it was up to her to make things right.

"Yes." She told him, and he shook his head, starting to pace around.

"I don't believe in anything Nostradamus says. I have never trusted anyone's words; I couldn't, as a future ruler. It is too easy to lie." He stopped walking and looked at her. "Yet I chose to believe in yours. And that was my first mistake, I guess. You told me you would wait for me, and you left. _You_ _left_…and with Bash of all people. You say now it was for fear of me, but I knew nothing then! How did you think I slept? Thinking of how you were fairing? Thinking of you together- "

"Francis, it wasn't like that. He was just trying to help me-"

"Yes? So you can tell me nothing happened between the two of you?"

She flash-backed to her and Bash's brief kiss, and felt color rising to her throat and cheeks, out of shame. Francis saw it, even in the dim light.

"I kissed him. Once. And I regret it." She fought against the urge to explain herself, _I was confused and scared and we were about to jump off a cliff and I thought I would die and he stopped it,_ but she didn't say a word of those._ S_he would not make excuses for herself. She needed to own up to her mistake, and hope he would forgive her.

"That's…good to know." He didn't sound angry now, he just sounded empty, like he'd given up. And that was infinitely worse than if he'd screamed at her.

"Francis-"

"God knows I'd rather you went with him than be alone though" A chuckle escaped his lips, but there was no humor in his voice. "…if anything happened to you, I'd…but you don't care, do you? You left with no care for me at all."

He looked so crushed she couldn't help but reach for him but he stepped away from her instantly, and the automatic rejection made her want to sink to her knees. Her chest hurt, and she longed for the few days they had where they wouldn't even need touch to be intertwined.

"I left because I cared _too much._ I didn't think about my country, or myself. I couldn't bear to be here, to be happy with you; if my mere presence would bring you harm. Nostradamus' prophecy said so, that our wedding would be the cause of your death."

"Mary, do you expect me to believe-"

"I believed it." She interrupted him, trying to get everything out before she gave way to tears. He _needed_ to believe her. "Nostradamus saw one of my ladies dying before the frost melted, and in mere hours Aylee was gone. He saw Tomás and Bash fighting days before it happened; _I saw_ what he could do with my own eyes.

So when he told me our marriage would be the cause of your death…Francis, his prophecy is the reason your mother has been trying so hard to get rid of me, she was just trying to protect you, just-" She took a breath, trying to contain her passionate speech, "just like I was. Please believe that. I never meant to bring you pain." She could feel tears burning behind her eyes, but still looked at him, willing him to believe her.

"You could have trusted me, Mary. You could have stayed and talked to me. If you loved me like you said you did-"

"Forgive me," She said, as a tear spilled down her cheek. "_Please_, forgive me. I know I hurt you, I know I shouldn't have run away and not told you what I knew. I didn't trust you and for that I'm sorry. I was afraid, I _am_ still afraid. For you. I couldn't bear if anything happened to you, and if it was because of _me? I_ would _die_ before losing you, Francis.

I'm sorry. I should have said that a long time ago. I'm sorry, and _I love you_. _" _Her voice broke, and she lowered her eyes to the floor, hope growing dimmer inside of her. "If you still love _me_...could you find it in yourself to forgive me?"

He took her by the chin and made her meet his eyes. His touch became impossibly tender at the sight of her tear streaked face. His hand slipped to her cheek and his fingers traveled down her throat to caress the nape of her neck. His thumb wiped her tears away as he looked at her; truly drank her in after days of side glances and empty stares. He couldn't mask the hurt in his eyes and neither could she. But still, for the first time in forever she could see tenderness in his, and love. Her heart beat as fast as a hummingbird's wings as he stepped closer to her.

"I love you, Mary. That never changed. Not for a second, but I-"

"Here they are!" Announced the booming voice of a French count, one of King Henry's guests. He bowed to them and spoke, "Your majesties, they've sent me to find you. The witnesses have been called away already and they're waiting for you." He told them, and walked inside again, with one last inclination of his head.

Mary was confused as to why they were needed; only wanting to hear what Francis was going to say. But I _what?_ He loved her, but was she forgiven? Could they go back to what they once had? Francis had already started for the doors again, a hand on the small of her back guiding her forward. She was about to turn around and ask him why they were going back inside when he told her,

"It's time." They entered the ball room again and she caught the curious, meddling looks of some guests and saw her ladies waiting for her with hopeful, supportive smiles. _Oh_. The bedding ceremony, she realized. She'd almost forgotten.

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**a/n: Thanks for reading! Next chapter is probably the last. Leave a review and let me know what you think?**


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing that Mary thought as she walked into the bed chamber was that there were too many people in it. Her ladies immediately hurried her to a corner of the room to get her ready, but she was numb to it all, too preoccupied by her conversation with Francis and all the buzz going on in the room.

A priest and an altar boy were milling about, and the witnesses were gathered in the other side of the room, staring as she came in. Greer starting loosening her gown, but she almost couldn't feel it. She was staring wide-eyed at the assembly of official witnesses. There were four of them. She couldn't help but feel blood rush to her face as she saw her own uncle among the men; the other three were French, and she did not recognize them, thankfully. But that didn't mean it would be easier, knowing they were there. Greer stepped into her field of vision then.

"I saw you and Francis go outside. Is everything all right again?" Kenna asked discreetly from behind her, as she helped Greer remove her gown, leaving her in a thin white undergarment. Lola brushed her hair, and she smelled her favorite scented oils that she'd probably put on the brush. She appreciated it, but didn't think anything could relax her now.

"We were interrupted before Francis could really say anything. But he told me he loves me, and I think…" She looked past Greer, distracted by the priest mumbling in Latin and sprinkling holy water onto the bed.

"Hey, don't be nervous now. Just ignore them." Said Greer softly, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles from her nightgown's sleeves. "You won't be anybody's entertainment. We have to stay here, but Leith will make sure no one sneaks in the other room to watch you two."

"You mean like _we_ did once?" she asked her, with a small smile. She was glad her friends tried to protect her; that she knew she could count on them. She'd only mentioned her worries over that once, days ago.

"Exactly." Lola told her with a quiet laugh, squeezing her shoulder softly.

The noises in the room suddenly quieted down. She looked up only to meet Francis' eyes across the room. Greer, Kenna and Lola curtsied and then walked to the corner, leaving her standing alone.

Francis wore an unreadable expression, but his eyes were intent on her, and the intensity in his gaze send shivers down her spine. She wasn't quite sure where they stood with each other, yet she couldn't help but want him.

They met in the middle of the room, a sea of candles at their feet. He offered her his hand and she took it, her heart drumming in her ears. She completely forgot about the men staring at them, all she could see was Francis. He backed her into the bed, the back of her knees hitting the mattress. They were so close the warmth of his body was almost dizzying. He put his hands on her shoulders, and softly ran them down her arms, finally grabbing her by the waist and pushing her up on the bed. He climbed in after her.

She found herself nestled in the pillows and sheets, him hovering over her, his weight on his forearms. She could feel the heat irradiating from his body and being so close to him and yet not touch him was almost maddening. They were being painfully cautious; she could feel that trepidation hanging in the air between them, as sure as she could feel her heart beating.

Yet when they looked into each other's eyes again, it was like suddenly a dam was opened. Francis brought his mouth down on hers, hard; and she kissed him back life he was her last breath. His fingers sank into her hair and pulled her closer, angling her head, the better to take her mouth. He kneed her legs apart and settled between them, not letting go of her mouth once.

They kissed like starving people, pulling closer, gripping tighter, as if trying to erase any distance between them even when there was none left. Yet their kisses tasted bitter and sad, like a goodbye instead of a beginning. This was supposed to be their first time, and even though it wasn't; it shouldn't have felt like the last. She was surprised to feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes and turned her head away so that his next kiss fell against her cheek. He stopped altogether, breathing hard and gazed down at her.

"I wont' do anything." He said, moving away slightly. "Not if you're not willing" He whispered, taking care of being quiet for the men mere steps away. "Not if your heart is not in this."

Her heart, mind and body were in this, she thought. That wasn't the problem_. I feel like we're never going to be happy again, _is what she would've liked to tell him. That if they would only love each other beneath sheets and walk around each other during the day, like strangers; she wanted no part in this at all.

"My heart is yours Francis, it always has been." She told him, making sure he looked at her. She could see that he believed it. Now she needed to know where he stood. "And yours?"

He just looked down at her and ran his fingers through her hair, caressing her cheeks and eyelids as if she was something precious, something breakable.

"You hold it. Always." He told her, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. "I forgive you, Mary" he whispered, "If I'm truthful I forgave you the minute you came back but I was too prideful to admit it." He left a trail of kisses from her lips to her neck, and finally laid his lips above her heart.

"I love you" He whispered against her skin, "-and…I'm sorry too, you feared for me and I feel as if I've punished you for it."

"We've both been foolish," she said, "… but none of that matters now." A smile played at the corners of her lips and her eyes watered for entirely different reasons. They could forget, and be together_, finally. _She sank her hand in his hair and drew him up to her lips again

"Mary." He sighed against her mouth, before puling away slightly, frowning "I regret that this day wasn't what you wanted it to be."

"I meant what I said that day. All I ever wanted was you."

It seemed to take her words a minute to sink in, and then he was on her. Grabbing her, pulling her close and crashing his mouth down on hers. She clutched at him; her fingers greedy, desperate. Her mouth locked on his. His tongue droved past her lips, tasting her. It was as if they were making up for lost time but still like no time had passed at all. She was sure of herself now; she knew how they fit like pieces of a puzzle. And it became clear then.

Prophecies didn't matter. She belonged here, in Francis' arms. And they would pave their own fate, together.

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**a/n: So that's it. Thanks for reading! (and reviewing, following and adding this story to your favorites) :)**


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